Cinnamon Toast
by Nicole Berman
Summary: SEQUEL TO "THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM". Memories are all Grissom has left. Will they be his lifesaver, or his downfall?


"Dammit." Grissom exhaled slowly, trying to calm the racing of his heart.

Wendy stopped in the doorway, turning to eye him carefully. "Doctor Grissom? You...all right?"

"Yes, Wendy." Grissom nodded quickly at the DNA tech. "I was...concentrating. You startled me, that's all." She backed away with an obsequious apology, and Grissom leaned back, slipping his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. He supposed that now he'd have to add "curls" to the list.

Certain things would always remind him of Sara. Grissom had accepted that long before they'd become lovers. The scent of the ocean - salt air brought to mind the three blissful days he'd spent in her company in San Francisco, the first time they'd met. Cinnamon took him back to her apartment, scented lightly with the incense she kept burning, and her smile, always waiting to greet him on the other side of the door.

Styx's "Show Me The Way". It made him roll his eyes, but it had been playing the first time they'd made love, and he'd never be able to hear it again without recalling a perfect picture of Sara stretched out beneath him, writhing, whispering encouragement in his ear.

A laundry list of Sara's favorites were impressed upon Grissom's memory, and any one of them could bring her to mind at any moment. Many times, a certain phrase had brought a smile to his face by reminding him of her. Even though she'd left Las Vegas, the best of her remained with him, and Grissom had been able to focus on the positive, the memories of Sara that he cherished, rather than dwelling on her absence. Every morning, in fact, he made himself a slice of cinnamon toast, just to force himself to deal with Sara's departure. Catherine had insisted he get therapy; he had insisted he wasn't comfortable talking to a stranger. This was their compromise.

But every so often, a trigger caught him unawares, stopping his heart dead in his chest for a beat. When Judy had passed his office, the gentle curls in her hair had Grissom thinking for the briefest of seconds that his Sara had come home.

------

_"Sorry," she apologized breathlessly, grinning broadly at him. "DB in Henderson. Took me forever to convince Cath to take it off my hands, because..." She gestured vaguely. "You know."_

_Grissom frowned. "Why didn't you just tell her? Are you...I mean..."_

_"Ashamed?" Sara stepped in close, her breath warm and sweet against his neck as she wrapped him in her arms. "No. Never. I just--" She kissed his cheek and stepped back, her smile growing more nervous. "This is just for you and me. As much as I adore Catherine, I don't want her here today." Sara slid her hand into Grissom's. "Ready?" _

_Sara made to cross the lobby, and Grissom gave her hand a gentle tug, stopping her. When Sara turned, his eyes took a leisurely journey over her, memorizing every detail wordlessly._

_She blushed, murmuring, "I bought this for you. You know how I feel about skirts."_

_"You look..." Grissom raised his eyes to meet Sara's._

_"Weird, I know," she chuckled. "Don't get used to it."_

_Grissom shook his head, waiting until Sara had finished. "Gorgeous," he corrected her. One of his fingers wrapped itself in the dark warmth of her curls, giving them a gentle tug. "Know what these remind me of?" For once speechless, Sara shook her head, and Grissom went on, his eyes far away although they were staring at her. "The day you came to Vegas. I didn't even have to turn around. Your voice stuck with me all those years." He stroked her hair gently with one hand, before dropping it to her hip. "And then I did turn around, and I saw you."_

_Sara tilted her head, frowning even as she chuckled. "My hair was curly then?"_

_"I'll never forget it. There you were, exactly as I'd left you, except for this head full of curls." Grissom smiled slightly. "I've always thought you looked a little like Katharine Hepburn when your hair is curly."_

_"Hepburn," Sara marveled, her grin returning. "How do you do that?"_

_"Do what?"_

_"Most of the time, I can't get you to admit you want peanut butter rather than tuna, but then sometimes I turn around and you're comparing me to movie stars, or quoting Shakespearean sonnets at me." She shook her head, unable to contain a laugh. "I just..."_

_"You what?" Grissom smirked at her, fairly sure of her answer._

_"I just can't wait to marry you," Sara replied easily, laughing harder as Grissom's mouth fell open. "Come on." She gave a little tug on his hand. "And if you like my hair this way, I'll do it curly more often." Sara squeezed Grissom's hand tightly as he held the door open for her._

_"I had a huge crush on Katharine Hepburn when I was a boy."_

_"Be still my heart, the man thinks I look like his childhood crush," Sara teased._

_The door swung shut behind them just as Grissom was saying, "Taste is one of those things which improves with age. When you're a little older, you'll understand that."_

------_  
_

Rocking forward in his chair, Grissom gave a long sigh. He slipped his glasses back on and left his office with a purposeful stride, ending up in front of Wendy's desk. He smiled gamely at her quizzical look. "Are you hungry?" he asked abruptly.

"I...yes?"

Grissom managed a genuine smile. "Good. How about Chinese? My treat."

Wendy arched one eyebrow, staring at her boss as if he'd lost his mind. Finally, she nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

"Good. Meet you in the conference room in ten minutes." He turned to leave, then glanced back at Wendy. "By the way...I like your hair."

"Doctor Grissom?" Wendy's voice stopped him, and Grissom came around to face her. "I... okay. Look," she stammered. "I don't want to be rude, and tell me if I'm completely off-base, but here's the thing," she rushed on, her words coming in a torrent. "Sara just left. I like you and all, but maybe now's not the best time to be hitting on someone. Especially someone you work with. Who happens to be tall with dark hair, just like her."

Grissom stood throughout her speech, a perplexed look plastered on his face. "Wendy?"

She canted her head. "Yes?"

"I'm not hitting on you."

"Ohhhh," Wendy breathed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything, although I guess I kinda did more than imply, but you know, I totally didn't intend it that way, so...yeah. If this isn't a come-on, why the invitation? You've never asked any of us lab rats out."

Grissom thought for a long moment before he replied, not wanting to reveal too much. "I need to stay grounded," he offered. "Let's just say...you're cinnamon toast."

"Cinnamon. Toast." Wendy bit back a snicker. "Sure, boss." She followed him out of the lab and down the hall toward the conference room.

------

Sara fished in her purse for the change. "I have nineteen cents," she promised. "I just have to find it."

"Take your time," the clerk replied nonchalantly.

"Got it!" She retrieved the change and pressed it into the man's hand, looking up and meeting his eyes. He peered over the rim of his glasses at her, and Sara's breath caught in her throat. "Th-thanks." She grabbed her bag and darted for the car, her heart pounding.

She spent a long moment with her head resting against the back of the seat, willing her heart to slow down. When it finally complied, she reached for her cell phone, and it took her an even longer while to compose the e-mail.

_The strangest things make me homesick. Today, it was a guy who looked over his glasses at me. Stupid shit, but... I miss you. I hope I'm not keeping you from moving on. Who am I kidding? Yes I do._

------_  
_

Grissom read the e-mail over and over, contemplating the strange way coincidence and the human psyche worked. He brushed a bit of cinnamon off the paper, folded it twice and stuck it in his pocket before heading out the door to work. Perhaps tonight, he could finally turn on his Styx album again.

THE END


End file.
